


Pudding Shots

by RubyQuinn



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Flirting, M/M, Pre-Slash, cheap jokes about oral sex, mild foodkink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyQuinn/pseuds/RubyQuinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry Christmas, RvB fans!  I got you some Grimmons.</p>
<p>(I actually had this mostly written like 3 years ago, but never could fit it with an ending I liked.  Finally worked out one I can stand, so here you go!  Some Red Team drabble for your Red Team drabble needs)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pudding Shots

 

Simmons rolled his eyes.  "Why am I not surprised?"

 

Grif scoffed defensively.  He peeked up from the bowl of something he was mixing to glare at his counterpart.  "What are you complaining about?  I'm actually doing work for once, aren't I?"  He tossed a few empty ingredient boxes in the general direction of the trash, missing by miles. 

 

The Dutch-Irish workaholic sighed as he surveyed the messy kitchen.  "I guess I'm gonna be the one who has to clean all this up later, aren't I?"

 

"Yep!" he said, cheerfully, ducking into the fridge.  "This is Christmas we're talking about.  I've got egg nog, peppermint hot chocolate, wassail, everything!"  He grinned.  "We're gonna be drunk into next week.  Or rather, next year."

 

"Wow," Simmons shook his head.  "You're really going all out, huh?  I've never seen you do so much work!"

 

"I mean, come on, it's alcohol," Grif scoffed, setting out some empty plastic cups on the table.  "I had a job once as a bartender back home, so I know this shit.  Besides, I couldn't risk you making the drinks too weak again, like last year!  I was not drunk enough for Donut's lapdance."

 

Simmons snickered, "Or the mistletoe incident?"

 

The orange soldier made a face of disgust at the memory.  "Yeah, peppermint schnapps did me much better than Listerine after that night."

 

Simmons busied himself with cleaning the dishes in the sink, smirking at his friend.  "You know, you really are insecure."

 

"Oh, come on, no I'm not," Grif protested.  "It's just… Donut.  Blech." 

 

"Don't be like that.  He's a sweet kid.  Just… flamboyant."

 

"Well yeah, but he's just… he's just too much sometimes.  You know what I mean."

 

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Simmons nodded sagely.  He put down the sponge, a thought occurring to him.  "So, you're saying that if it was a different guy, you wouldn't be bothered by it?"

 

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged.  "Not just anybody, you know.  I mean, come on, everyone has someone they would go gay for."

 

"Oh really?" Simmons laughed, "Then who?  Brad Pitt, or something?"

 

Grif shrugged.  "I 'unno!"

 

"You're the one who brought it up!"

 

"Hey, it’s not like I go around looking for guys to hook up with, alright?  What about  yours?  Who would you go for?"

 

Simmons huffed, well aware of the blush creeping to his cheeks. "What?  Oh, how the fuck should I know?"

 

"Come on, don't you have some idea?"

 

"You don't!  Why the hell should I?"  Simmons glanced at what Grif was working on, looking for a way out of the conversation.  He blinked.  "Uhh… what are you making?"

 

"Hmm?"  Grif looked up from ladling the thick gloop into plastic cups.  "They're for the party."  Thick, creamy, white gloop. 

 

"That looks like-" Simmons stuttered, then laughed, "Dude, what the fuck?  What is that stuff?"

 

"They're vanilla pudding shots," Grif explained, digging in a drawer for a spoon.  He scooped up a spoonful and tasted it.  "Mmm," he hummed, considering, "A little strong, I think, but hey, not bad."

 

"Pudding shots?  Really?"

 

"It's just like jello shots… but with pudding!  It's brilliant," he licked his lips.  "Even I can follow a recipe on a box.  Donut even scored me some Oreo pudding mix, so I've got my own batch in the back of the fridge," he smiled excitedly.  "Can't wait!"

 

"Does it just taste like pudding, then?"  Simmons leaned curiously over the bowl. 

 

"Meh, it kinda tastes like egg nog, cuz of the spiced rum.  Not bad though.  You want some?"  Before Simmons could answer, Grif had scooped up another spoonful and was holding it out as if to feed him.

 

Simmons raised his eyebrows.  "Dude, gross, your germs are all over that spoon!"

 

Grif rolled his eyes.  "Yeah.  And your germs are all over those organs you gave me.  Just taste it, come on."

 

Simmons shrugged, leaning forward to taste the pudding off the spoon.  He smacked his lips, considering the taste.  "Hmm, that is kinda strong.  It's pretty tasty though."

 

Grif smirked, teasing, "Even with my germs all over it?"

 

"Oh, shut up."

 

Grif snickered.  He scooped up another spoonful, holding it out like last time. 

 

"I don't need any-"

 

"-come on, have some more."

 

The maroon soldier shot him a suspicious look before leaning cautiously forward once again.  Grif moved the spoon slightly as Simmons tried to get it, and instead of going into his mouth, the pudding smeared as the spoon bumped into his nose and cheek. 

 

"Grif!" Simmons squawked, his face heating as the orange soldier laughed.  He glared, and Grif stopped laughing for a moment before his eyes widened and he started laughing even harder.  "What?" Simmons gritted through clenched teeth. 

 

"You- you look like-" Grif gasped between laughing, "Like you've been sucking dick in a bad porno!"

 

"Hey guys!" As if on cue, Donut peeked around the corner.  "What's all the laughing about?" The smiling rookie caught site of Simmons' face and raised an eyebrow.  "O-oh!  I'm sorry, I'm interrupting!"

 

"Wh- no!  You're not interrupting-"

 

"No need for excuses, Simmons, just make sure you two clean up after yourselves while I go finish decorating for the party."

 

"The _two_ of us?  It's him who's making the mess, not me!"

 

Donut shot him a mildly disturbed look.  "Uh, yeah, I gathered that much.  You two have fun!"

 

"Aaagh, that's not what I meant!!"  Simmons shouted after Donut's retreating back.  Next to him, Grif looked like he would have an aneurism from how hard he was laughing.  Simmons' face was redder than his armor, and he jabbed Grif with his elbow.  "Shut up!"

 

"Ow!  Is that what I get for sharing?" Grif continued to laugh, as Simmons tried to wipe the pudding off with the back of his hand. 

 

"Fuuuuck you," Simmons pouted. 

 

"Wait, you're just making more of a mess."  Grif bit his lip at the glare his teammate shot him, making a valiant effort to stop laughing.  "Dude, let me help," he said, picking up a slightly-used towel from the counter.

 

Simmons batted the towel away as Grif tried to wipe his face.  "Ew, that thing's already dirty!"

 

Grif rolled his eyes, tossing the offending rag back on the table.  "Okay, princess, how do you want me to get it off?"

 

"Go find a clean towel."

 

"Fuck that," Grif scoffed, deciding that would be too much work.  Suddenly he smirked, grabbing the front of Simmons' shirt and pinning his hips against the counter.  "I've got a better idea."

 

"Wha- hey!"  It was all Simmons could say as the other soldier suddenly leaned upwards and licked the offending substance off his face.  "Ew, Grif!!  What the fuck was that for?!"

 

"You said to help clean you up," the shorter man replied, smacking the pudding from his lips.

 

"You just licked me!"

 

"Yeah, better than wasting a perfectly good pudding shot, wouldn't you say?"

 

"You're so fucking gross."

 

Grif rolled his eyes, then smirked, appreciating the heavy blush on Simmons' cheeks as he continued to invade his personal space. 

 

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think I missed a spot."

 

This time, he moved in slower, slow enough to appreciate the heavy breathing in his ear as he lapped up the rest of the sticky-sweet goop from the heated skin.  It was enough to elicit a whimper from the redhead, and his eyes fluttered shut.  Grif pulled back, a triumphant glint in his mismatched eyes.  

 

Simmons spluttered, face as red as his armor.  "What," he said, scandalized, "was that about??"

 

A strange look crossed Grif's face , before he settled into a mischievous smile.  "You know," he said contemplatively, seeming to ignore his still blushing teammate's question as  he lifted the tray of shots, opening the refrigerator,  "I think Donut's decorating for the party.  I wonder if he still has that mistletoe from last year.  You know how he likes to put it in all the doorways, and ceilings.   He even tried taping it to our helmets one year." 

 

He shrugged nonchalantly as he put away the treats and closed the fridge.  "I guess what I'm saying is, look out for the mistletoe tonight.  And, uh, I'll do the same.  I mean, you never know what can happen when that stuff's all over the place, right?" 

 

The smile was back, and Grif pointedly lifted his hand (coincidentally, his pale skinned, narrow hand) which had gotten a bit of pudding on it.  He darted his tongue out, perhaps a little slower than necessary, to take care of the sticky splotch, without breaking eye contact with his teammate.  With that taken care of, he turned and left, with a final, "See you at the party, Simmons."

 

"Uhh, yeah," Simmons squeaked after him, "See ya."

 

After a few dumbfounded moments of standing alone in the kitchen, he decided to go and find Donut and help with the decorations.  After all, as head of the party planning committee, it was his duty to help make sure everything was set up just right.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


End file.
